E 

.5 




'AN -'3snoms| 

'SOUS QUOIAVal 



TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY 



Seeg.eant ABRAHAM B. SAVEEY, 



CO. I, MASSACHUSETTS SEVENTH EEGIMENT. 



I>lea I>ec. 16, 18G3. 



IjJ iMj^oj\ri'\f 






PROVIDENCE; 

:;ooKE, Jackson & Co., Prikters, Etekikg Przss Office, 16 Weteosslt St. 

1864. 



Serjeant Abraham Bailey Saveky was bom iii Attle- 
boro, Mass., May 23, 1837. 

His parents were Doctor^Phiue as Sav ers and Sallie 
Bailey, both of Attleboro. ~^""""''^'^" -..-^-^■--- 

His youth was spent in his native town, receiving the best 
education which our High School could give. 

June, 1861, he enlisted as a private in Co. I, 7th Regiment 
Mass. Vols., where he discharged his duties as a loyal Christ- 
ian soldier, until his untimely death, Dec. 16, 1863. He 
died of pleurisy, after an illness of 8 days. His remains 
were brought to Attlebora, and buried with military honors 
on the 21th Dec. The funeral was attended at the Congre- 
gational Church by a large concourse of our citizens. 

We have printed and put into covers this little book, as a 
simple tribute to the memory of a brave and beloved Christian 
brother. 

Mav the large circle of deeply afflicted friends be comforted 
by our humble efforts, 

^ W. W. B.^ 

Attleboro, JannarV, 1861. - 



"The beauty of Israel is slain upon the high 
PLACES."— 2 Sam. 1. 19. 

We are gatliered to-day in the discharge of a mournful 
duty. No more fitting words for us, could be found in all the 
precious Bible than David's lament at the burial of Jonathan 
— none more appropriate to the occasion which convenes us to- 
day. Spoken originally at the grave of a soldier, by the sol- 
dier-king of Israel, they have a singular aptness now. David, 
the militant man of God, was called to bury his beloved friend. 
This older son of Saul was a princely man, worthy of the 
love of such a kingly soul as the noblest son of Judah — their 
affection w^as mutual, brave and undying. Their souls were 
knit together in the enduring bonds of love. No wonder then 
as the messenger from the battle-field came to tell of the death 
of Jonatlian that the Hebrew King rent his clothes, mourned, 
fasted and wept. No wonder in pronouncing his eulogy he 
uttered words of radiance and sorrow^, at once the sweetest 
and the saddest that ever fell from human lips. " I am dis- 
tressed for thee, my brother Jonathan. Very pleasant hast 
thou been unto me ; tby love was wonderful — passing the love 
of w^oman." 

Oh, Jonathan, thou and thy kingly father wert " swifter 
than eagles, stronger than lions, lovely and pleasant in thy 
lives, and in death not divided." Then his grief became so 
great that he apostrophized nature : " Ye mountains of Gil- 
boa, let there be no dew, neither let their be rain upon you, 
nor fields of offerings — " tell it not in Gath, publish it not in 
the streets of Askalon, lest the Philistines rejoice ; oh ye 
daughters of Jerusalem tveep, for the beauty of Israel is slam 
upon the mountains." For thirty months our land has been 
full of mourning — the lament is everywhere, and oh the mul- 
titudes of shadowed homes and smitten hearts, bleeding and 
weeping for the slain beauty of our Israel. We have heard 
the muftied drum far away, and near too. Heart wails sounded 
in the distance like the dying of summer winds on the shore 
of the ocean. Anon the swelling tide of grief rolled in nearer 






and nearer, and the air grew dark, and the war blast louder 
and louder, till at last the billows have broken on the threshold 
of our homes, and we, afflicted brethren and friends^ must take 
up this same chorus of woe. When a peasant dies, a few wrap 
him in his shroud and lay him in his rural rest, but when a 
Christian hero dies, the town, or the nation mourns, — precious, 
lovino; friends, taking up the lament, tenderly and sorrowfully 
bear him to his burial. The death of the faithful Clmstian 
soldier who freely gives his life for his country is no ordinary 
event, and demands of those who speak at his funeral more 
than common words of sympathy and love. 

The very name of soldier has been admired in all ages. 
The sublimity of war, the grandeur of its operations, its thrill- 
ing scenes of danger, all conspire to throw around the names 
of daring and heroic men a halo of glory. The death of a 
faithful soldier at his post is one of the sublimest sights the 
sun ever beheld. In excavating the ruins of Herculanium, 
the skeleton of a Roman soldier was found in his place at the 
gate of the city grasping his spear in his bony fingers. He 
beheld the stream of volcanic ashes and fire pouring down 
upon the doomed city and saw his own death-warrant on its 
foremost wave, but unmoved^ he remained at his post, leaving 
his bones there as a monument of his fidelity. No prouder 
sarcophagus stands to-day in all the sunny land of Italy. So 
brethren, to die a Christian soldier at the post of duty — in 
the service of his God and his country — is among the highest 
honor of mortals. Such a man's death demands of us, who 
knew his virtues and loved his memory, to pronounce words 
of truth and of love, of radiance and instruction at his grave. 

I would speak first of an element of character which every 
faithful soldier possesses, viz : Manliness — by which I mean 
macjnanhnity. The true meaning of magnanimity is " great- 
ness of soul." It partakes more of the moral than of the 
intellectual. It includes courage, self-denial, and benevo- 
lence — also that reserved force of character which belongs to 
every brave and virtuous soul. About this manliness there 
is a charm and a power never seen in the selfish soul who has 
no spirit of magnanimity, no true largeness of heart, such as 
beats in unison with the throbbings of our common humanity. 
Our estimate of the man himself is far above all external rela- 
tions, all titles and all the surroundings of life. Personal 
worth is above official station, and lends it honor. Character 



is above all conditions of life. The living glory of the iinier 
man is that which sheds lustre npon rank and'station ; with- 
out which all the relations of life, all the positions of influence, 
numerous and influential, are but as the hollow pageant of an 
hour. There is much of empty honor in this world — clothed 
sometimes with imperial power, it may be with more than 
regal splendor, but empty as the wind. " Princes are often 
made of the poorest stuff*, the very chaff' of mankind. There 
have been heroes too, fame-smitten for the hour, in whose 
death the world finds no calamity," wdiile many a royal soul 
has passed from the living unheard of — gone up from "^Ameri- 
can battle fields to join the ranks of the ransomed above. 
Such a death, no matter how humble the hero, makes the 
ivorld a mourner — because the cause for which he dies is the 
cause of humanity — because the mmi is above the office. 
Brethren, it is personaJ worth that crowns life and death with 
imperial honor. It is the divine commission, and sceptred 
sway of royalty in the soul, that lifts one into grandeur of 
life, above all ephemeral significance, and that embalms the 
Christian hero's death in unfeigned sorrow, and enshrines his 
memory in the golden casket of the heart. The glory of 
Christian manhood, — the lustre of virtue radiates all life's hem- 
isphere. ^ This is what makes his life's sunset — the night and 
the anguish of the world — and makes so sublimely instructive 
the solemn emphasis of death. AVlien a good young man 
dies, humanity is poorer. When an heroic ^oul passes away 
it is fitting the living should pause in solemn recognition of 
it, and out of their reverence and affection carve'immortal 
shrines for his memory. 

I repeat the sentiment — we look for the true soldier '^ first 
in the man.'' The greater contains the less. What is it 
that wins love and makes the world take its noblest sons to 
its heart' and cherish them fondly ? Majiliness — true Christ- 
ian manliness. It is this, and not fame nor rank that awakens 
lasting admiration. Emperors have gone down to the grave 
from bights of power, blazing in gold and purple, without a 
mourner ; but when a max dies, humaniiy mourns. Intelli- 
gence, magnanimi.ty, generosity, self-forgetfulness in the in- 
terests of others, an heroic devotion to the welflire of men 
and the glory of God, e^xemption from all meanness, all pre- 
tence and affectation — these are the things that grasp the 
heart of the world and live in the o-rateful remembrances of 



men wlien nil ijageant is dead. It is because of tlie death of 
our ])recious friend who embodied these manly elements so 
beautifully, that there is a sudden veiling of a brightness we 
shall see no more, and so there 's such a depth of tenderness 
resting upon our sorrow. I come, my^bearers, to bring you 
a cluster of rose-buds for your cypr/s wreath — to speak to 
you, tenderly, of one with whom you are all familiar, from 
your childhood. I can tell you only what you so well knew. 
Noble by nature, nobler by education, we can all say with 
his commanding officer, " I bear eager testimony not only to 
the efficiency of the soldier, but to the genuineness of the 
7nan.^^ Born in your village, trained in your schools, the 
playmate and shopmate of many of you, your friend and 
associate in all the pastimes and pursuits of our virtuous 
youth, a member of the same High School, Reading Circle, 
Choir, Church and Sabbath School with so many of my 
youthful flock. 

Slii^ht in form, frail in health, impulsive in spirit, of an 
active, inquiring, cultivated mind, attaining a higher intel- 
lectual position than many young men of his age, with a high 
sense of honor, modest and unassuming, never appreciating 
his own powers, diffident and distrustful of himself, he had 
an unaffected modesty which in these days is so rare a jewel, 
therefore so precious — a real diamond of character. Always 
truthful, conscientious, generous in disposition, kind of heart, 
ca])able of noble purpose and lofty plans. Such a man was 
Abraham Savery. The first sound of an assault on govern- 
ment developed the manly and heroic nature wliicli dwelt in 
the soul of the magnanimous boy. He gave himself to his 
country at once, witli the same self-denying spirit that had 
characterized him evermore. 

I am reminded that he was an affectionate and dutiful son. 
The death of his father, the "beloved physican " of Attle- 
boro, ten years since, devolved upon Abraham, for the most 
part, the support of his remaining parent. His kindness and 
love for this widowed mother was remarkable. He Avas un- 
wearied and dilhgent in his devotion to that affiicted parent, 
doing so much to smooth and to brighten her rugged and 
somber way. 

Patriotism was a ruling principle in his soul. He went to 
the war from noble motives. He writes a friend : " Patri- 
otism must be at a low ebb in A. to need bounty money to 



lead oar boys to enlist." And again these stirring senti- 
ments: '' The price of a man's life set down at fSOO. Gold 
is a contemjJtible thine/ to give men, who love life as well as 
we do, to face the cannon's mouth. No paltry pay of pelf 
can take the place of patriotism in the defence of one's own 
comitry." Noble utterances, worthy the epitaph of the 
noblest Spartan that i)erished at Thermopyle, or of American 
veterans on the battlefields of Virginia. Our beloved friend, 
who now lies before us cold in deaths would say, if he could 
speak : " Tf you want good soldiers, inspire them with the 
principles of Christian patriotism, gird them and flank them 
with the holy pledges of the heart." Such soldiers, brethren, 
when we find them, we should honor them, living, and at 
death, not only eulogize their virtues, but embalm their mem- 
ories in the holiest shrines of the human soul. Some eleven 
months hq-o he was home on a furlouo;h, recoverino; from a 
severe illness — the days flew swiftly, and before his strength 
was good again his furlough expired, loving ones gladly sought 
to detain him, but the impulse of duty bade him return — his 
brave comrades were in the field, wdiy should he linger ? The 
romance of war Avas gone, he had been in several battles, and 
knew too well their stern, sad fate. His bosom friend fell at 
Fredericksburgh.* He knew he was going back to danger, 
perhaps to death. Hundreds not so ill as he had sought and 
obtained a discharge. He did not hesitate to return, but went 
cheerfally and promptly. The sense of duty — the impulse of 
patriotism — the voice of his country urged him on. I know 
patriotism is 7iot religion ; although, Christianity produces the 
loftiest, purest patriotism, and when tliis is hallowed by virtue 
and sanctified by God's religion, it is sublime. Such, we have 
the best reason to know was the character of our beloved 
friend. His letters from the army were remarkable for breadth 
of views — depth of thought — vividness of description — and 
for purity of affection, as hundreds of those precious missives 
received by loving friends and treasured by them, will testify. 
(See extracts from letters.) We have spoken of Sergt. 
Savery as the Christian soldier. As we said of his manliness 
so we may say of his piety — he w^as both a man and a Christian 
before he was a soldier — born of pious parents — consecrated 
to God in infancy, before this altar — nurtured in a Christian 
family — receiving the early religious culture of that family — 

*Corporal Keith, of Co. I, from Bridg«water, Mass. 



and of tlie Sabbatli School in this cluirch, the snbjcct of early 
religious impressions, and the object of prayer. In youth he 
became interested in the matter of personal salvation, and about 
the age of 18, in company Avith more than twenty friends and 
youthful companions, made a public profession of faith in 
Christ. 

That he adorned that profession by a humble, consistent, 
prayerful walk and conversation you will bear me record. 
AYe have before noted his natural modesty — this prevented 
his being prominent in any public duties ; but he was ever 
in his place at Churcb — in the Sabbath School and prayer 
meeting — a still, devout and sincere worshipper. He loved 
the courts of our God, oh how dearly, and sought them how 
diligently. He loved the house of God, the ivord of God and 
i\\Q friends of God. Religion in him was not emotion, but a 
life, a i^rinciple, "having the root of the matter in it." He 
seemed governed in all his plans of life and rules of conduct 
by a high regard for the glory of God, and the weal of man ; 
hence the sacrifices he w^as willing to make and did make for 
Christ's Church and the country he loved. How much has 
a mother, who for years has been dependent on his filial love, 
to console her in her lonely and shadowed life in the memory 
of such a son, and those afflicted brothers and sisters far away. 
What a crowd of mourners I behold. A church in mourn- 
ing — a congregation in mourning — a whole community in 
mourning ; our homes, our hearts, our households in sorrow, 
because we have lost a friend and a brother ; but wdiat we 
have lost heaven has gained, and oh what a treasure ; a true, 
pure, brave, young faithful heart, ransomed by the blood of 
Jesus. 

How much would we give to buy that dear life back again, 
but we cannot — we cannot bribe the relentless death angel, 
we cannot recall the past — we cannot reverse the purposes of 
God. Yet, his unstained memory ai^d untarnished life is a 
thousand times more precious than his actual presence could 
be without them. Still we may weep for the earh/ dead, our 
Saviour set us the example. Jesus, the world's Redeemer, 
wept once at a burial — it w^as at the grave of a young 
man. So of our precious dead. Slain upon the threshold of 
a noble manhood, growing in strength and in beauty of char- 
acter. His genial, generous, affectionate nature drew around 
him tried and warm friends — true hearted and sincere. The 



pride of his Puritan blood had no arrogance but a manly 
independence allied to Christian modesty, which qualities in- 
sured him, if not a brilliant, an honorable career. Though he 
bore up bravely amid hardship and defeat, yet his sensitive 
spirit felt keenly the want of success in many of the army 
movements. Still he was not discouraged, as his letters show. 
He saj^s : " This croaking, grumbling and fault-finding of 
traitors at home has lost us many a splendid victory;" but 
''after all, God reigns and He does not always give the just 
cause a speedy triumph." Reverses, instead of disheartening 
a manly soul, only kindle an intenser indignation and develop 
a more determined spirit of resistance to wrong. All this suf- 
fering of our noble boys — ^-all this hunger, cold and heat — fa- 
tigue — long and weary marches — all this carnage and death 
has some compensations. There is the proud thought that by 
all this suffering and sacrifice, they have helped to win the 
battle for the free, and to give a noble country the resurrec- 
tion of a consecrated and better life. Let us then, through 
eyes dimmed with tears, look up and see the radiance of a 
holier light streaming down over the crystal walls. Let us 
thank God that he gave to one whom we so dearly loved, so 
noble a work to do on earth, and that he enabled him to do it 
so faithfully and so well ; that he died in the way of duty in 
the defense of right ; that he left behind him so pure a life — 
so stainless a name — so sweet and precious a memory. That 
having fulfilled his earthly mission, and yielded up his young 
and beautiful life upon the sacred altar of freedom, he has 
gone to join the noble army of Christian martyrs which sur- 
round the Throne with songs of victory, and so to share the 
triumphs of his Redeemer and to dwell in the presence of His 
glory and His love forever. 

We thank God for the record of such lives. It is one of 
the sad, but consoling lessons of our day. The hallowed 
memories of our soldier-dead running back from pews in this 
house of prayer to graves in yonder cemetery. Oh, what 
precious legacies to these shrouded hearts and to Christ's 
Church. Their spirit shall never die. It shall outlive the 
ruins of empires, and of eras, and passing through the web of 
time, a shuttle in the hands of the Almighty, shall weave the 
bright colors of self-denial, loyalty to God and liberty, into the 
mighty fabric of human souls, which shall be unrolled at the 
judgment and then hung up as the golden tapestry of heaven. 
The Christian hero dying for his country is a matchless mar- 



8 

tyr. You talk about the ^ilovy of the statesman's death, and 
a conquerer's deatli — whose dvincr bed is made of the broken 
weapons of a bannered host. History tells " of the great 
Caisar, who in dying, first gazed on the marble brow of 
Pompey, and then arranged his robes to lie wdth becoming 
dignity in death." It tells us of Nelson before his last battle, 
saying, " now for a peerage or Westminster Abbey ;" but in 
none of these is there an heroic element so pure, so unselfish 
as is developed on American battle fields. Oh, brethren, "to 
die a Christian Soldier with your eye fixed on the great Cap- 
tain of your salvation. Such a death is not only suBLirsiE but 
glorious. Mere earthly fame grows dim, dwindles and dark- 
ens into night beside such triumphs. How precious the leg- 
acy and lessons of such lives. Who can compute their value 
and their influence to ours and the coming ages ? When the 
history of this awful rebellion shall be written by some unborn 
Bancroft, Irving, or Everett, the brightest pages in the annals 
of our nation's memory shall be filled with the names of 
Christian heroes — the Liberty-loving soldiers icho have died to 
save their country. 

Young Men — I have portray sd before you the life of a 
beloved youth — your friend and mine. I hold him up for 
your emulation. Let the light of his good example shine upon 
yon and make your life bright, pure and happy. His last 
battle has been fought ; his last march made ; his last victory 
won ; no drum beat wnll ever rouse him from his slumbers — 
he has ffone to that o-enial clime where war is unknown — 
wdiere the peace of God fills the soul. Some of you, with him, 
w^ere members of the noble x\rmy of the Union. Others of 
you I hope will be. A grateful countr^^ will remember you 
w^hen peace shall again lift her white banner over the proud 
dome of our Capitol, and the flag you love shall again wave 
triumphant over a country united and free, then it will be 
your pride and glory, and the rich inheritance of your chil- 
dren, that you gave yourselves to that country in her hour of 
need. Oh, be loyal also to your God; give yourselves /?rs^ to 
Christ. There is a battle greater than any earthly one, to be 
fought, there is a fight of faith Avithin your own souls, there 
is a victory to be won here, and a crown of righteousness un- 
fading and eternal in the heavens. Jesus, the great Captain 
of your salvation calls you. I exhort you as his minister ^' to 



prepare to yneet your G-od^ From that soldier's coffin there 
rises an appeal far more eloquent than human voice can make. 
It sounds out the same notes, "prepare to meet thy Gody 
That pale face — those mute lips appeal to all your manhood — 
to all your patriotism — to all jour immortality^ to prepare to 
meet death as your comrade has done. Then can you follow 
where this young hero so nobly led — to the battle field — to 
victory and to the grave of the Christian soldier whose sold is 
marching on to rest in the bosom of his God. 



EXTEACTS FEOM THE LETTERS OF SERG'T SAVEEY. 



la answer to a -letter containing intelligence of the death of as^early loved cousin, who died 
in the service of his country he writes : 

" I kno-,v my own sorrow when loved ones are taken away, and can readil}' sympathize with 
you. Feiv, very few Northern homes will he left without grief for loved ones, whom this war 
has sacrificed. Our national punishment is indeed great. The onl^' way in which we can 
discern light amid this darkness, is by looking with fiiith upon the promises of the Gospel. 
Never was there a time when perfect trust in the Almighty was more needful, and if we will 
but exercise that trust, then will this day of trial be a furnace, out of whicli we shall come 
purified, and better fitted to enjoy future blessings." 

Sept. 13, 1861. Speaking of his love of home he says : 

" I was so very fortunate as to be possessed of parents who never clashed in sentiment, and. 
1 can say nothing more proudly than that I had as good a home and parents as ever mortal 
was blessed with. Never, since I can remember was a ivord spoken harshly by one to the other, 
and though my misdemeanor sometimes called for such words tipon me, (and when required 
they were sure to come,) yet I now can see the need there was of them, and thank God for 
the training of faithful Christian parents. My own home experience was so delightful that I 
can hardly have sufficient charity for the heads of some families I have since seen, and I have 
ceased to wonder, as I used to do, that some children never love to stay at home, and prefer 
the bar-room or saloon, if boys, and the rough life of a sailor to obedience to parents. My 
Mother ! Gentlest, dearest name. I canH describe the living being ; you must hear her voice, 
low and clear, so full of sweetness to me, must see her countenance light up with smiles of 
love ; you must see her in pain, even, and in sorrow, must Icnow of her deeds of love for me, 
and all that I have seen '<mOifelt from infancy of a mother's care. 

I have known what a loss it was to be deprived of as good a father as ever lived, and the 
worth of such a parent no one can know until deprived of the blessing." 

Aug. 4, 1881. "It seems to me like the Sabbath to-day, and I would that the morning 
might not pass so soon, for well I know that within this hour the camp will show naught to 
designate a day of rest. Bye-and-bye I shall imagine that I hear the church bell, and see the 
congregation slowly and reverently passing along the streets. Wish that I could join that 
throng and with them go to worship. Prize highly the inestimable privilege you now have in 
being permitted to attend upon the preaching of the Gospel, for if you are ever deprived of 



10 

tlii.s, "t will be as great a privation as you will wish. At such times pray for mCf that ia th./ 
iniJst of danger and surrounded with temptations, I may not forget to call upon the father 
of us all, to do Ilim honor and reverence. This is a hard place for religion to flourish, and at 
the same time, "t would seem to be more necessary than in any other situation. It is only by 
constant care and watchfulness, aided by the quickening influence of the Holy Spirit, that I 
can hope to live as becomes a professed follower of Jesus, or as one who may very soon go to 
meet the Judge of all the world, to render to Ilim an account of every deed, whether done 
before the eye of m^n. or in the thick darkness of uight ; and every thought not only those 
that find expression from the lip. or in the countenance, but the most secret, hidden, just 
conceived idea, forgotten as soon as originated. When I think of the vastness of our sins in 
thought, it makes me shudder, and more than ever to bless and praise God that such a way 
has been provided for redemption, for of themselves, " Who shall be able to stand ?" 

Sept. 29, 18(31. " This is a most beautiful day. Not a cloud obscures the clear blue from 
horizon to zenith : the early morning was uncomfortably cool, and overcoats were not one 
v.hit too heavy for comfort, but now, about noon, 'tis comfortable, — real silent, dreamy, 
soothing weather. A quiet Sabbath.' It seems strange to me that we have such an one here 
to-day ; but it is, despite the preparations making for bloodshed, the most quiet and pleasant 
Lord's day I have seen for a long time : hope the sermon this afternoon will be upon the love 
of the Saviour towards man, and of our duty to Him, and the unbounded thanks we owe for 
the precious gift of His blood- It does not seem as thougii any person could resist an earnest, 
fervent and simple appeal, when such a clear sky and beautiful sun is overhead, and so 
delicious an atmosphere is around. I am so much of a child that I love siinpli^ity, and was 
never so much moved by, or do so well recollect any sermon spoken from the pulpit, as some 
simple words that the trembling lips of a new-born soul has spoken at a. prayer meeting; 
words that were not pronounced with the accent of Webster, or connected by the rules of 
grammatical construction, but were spoken, ! hoiv feelingly. I remember the thrill that 
ran through my veins at the timC;. He gave utterance to the eloquence of his soul. 

Aug. 4, 1862. I must confess that it rather surprises me not to see more readin«ss in the 
men of the North to come forward and enlist now that they are needed. 'T is not strange that 
they dislike leaving comfort and ease, with friends and families at home, for the fatigues and 
perils of a soldier's life, but some one must " come over and help us.'" or the homes that 
now afford them so much happiness will soon be as desolate as the Peninsula of A'irginia, 
that has for the last six months been swept over by the sword and fire. Some one 77iust go. 
then why not I? ought, in my opinion, to be the only form of argument allowed in the brain 
of any true son of the North. Some of the soldiers who have obtained short furloughs and 
visited home, complain bitterly of their treatment from others beside personal friends. 
They are told to "go back where they belong," that '■ if they had been in their places the 
late reverses to us would not have occurred" I know of several instances where such 
language has been used at the North towards men who acted the hero's part all through the 
struggle until our safe arrival here, and who then were fortunate enough to obtain a fortnight's 
leave of absence during our time of inactivity. This kind of language, insult of the meanest 
kind, comes, too, from men who ough.t, by all the requirements of manhood, to be side by 
side with those they revile." 

Oc^ 16, 1861. "lam glad to see you so tlioroughly imbued with Patriotism, and the 
time may come, as it has before, when on the women of the North will there be a tax laid, 
and they be called to surrender Fathers, Brothers, Husbands and Sons to fight for the Cause 
of Right. God grant that there may be no cause for this ; that the number now in the field 
may be enough for asserting Freedom triuviphmU. Even now, there is weeping in many a 
household for a dear one never more to be met on earth, and yet there has been comparatively 
little fighting. It makes me very sad to think of the families now separated by this war, 
which will never more be united as a whole I One of our Company lost a daughter the past 
week, and her husband mourns for her in the 2d R. I. Regiment. 7 have lost a brother. 
and ere the close of the war, my mother may be grieved again at the loss of her first-born 
son. For her sake, I would that I might live that I may be her support in the later years 



11 

of a life that has beeu spent for the comfort and good of her children. 'T is a fearful retrihu- 
tion that has fallen upon us for permitting the curse of slavery to rest so long upon the land. 
The tears and suffering of the poor slaves for more than two centuries are now to be 
expiated by the blood of their task masters, and those whose hands were idle to stop the sin. 
Efforts are now making to have us placed in the most advanced position of this army, and I 
hope they will be successful. I am wilUng, if it will help give the death-blow to slavery, to 
give my blood upon the field of battle. But a host is as nothing except the Lord be with us, 
therefore pray earnestly that my nerve may be steady, my arm strong, my eye keen to direct, 
and my courage may not fail me when the day for the contest approaches. The ' God of 
battles ' must be our helper. His aid must be invoked or our cause is hopeless. With the 
Lord on our side, all the nations of the earth may rise up against us, and we shall escape 
unscathed." 

March 9, 1862. '' Spring is beginning to assert its rule with us. I have very mvich missed 
the usual winter enjoyments to which I have been accustomed heretofore, and perhaps for 
me they are gone forever. A week may not pass before my body shall return to dust, and 
my spirit stand in presence of its Judge. Spite of all the bravery and coolness a man may 
clothe himself with, it is not amiss for every soldier, at least when upon the eve of a probably 
1)loody conflict, to consider h\^ future existence, and hearts that will not flinch in the midst 
of falling shot and shell, may well tremble and pray earnestly in view of this. If I know 
my own soul, I can go to battle with a feeling of trust and faith that will be of greater 
service to m« than any amount of brute courage ; and earnestly do I pray that in the hour of 
need and peril, the arm of my Heavenly Father may be my support and strength. If you 
hear of the movement of this portion of the army, jnay for me that as a Christian and 
Patriot, I may come out of the strife with honor, or meet my Father, to hear the words, 
' Well done,' &c. I have not a glimmering of a doubt as to the final success of our arms, 
for nothing can overthrow the cause of Truth and Liberty. God is upon that side, and if 
' He be for us, ivho can be against us ? ' "' 

Nov. 20, 1862. Concerning Sabbath privileges, he writes : "If there is any one thing I 
envy your enjoyment of, 't is such Sabbath privileges as are now yours. The same day that I 
received your last letter I also received one from my mother and sister Nancie, and all. three 
were praising the sermons heard that day, and all seemed to feel that God's Holy Spirit was 
in the congregation giving effect to the words spoken. You probably have learned ere this 
that I was marching that day from White plains to New Baltimore. I cannot say that I was 
happy. Happiness is something I have learned to dispense with in a great degree, and I 
think that I have learned someivhat to be content with what I receive. I never expect to be 
hapiiy while a soldier : if I can restrain complaint and impatient words, I shall be satisfied. 
This war is to be waged to sustain a principle, and as such I can bear suffering and danger to 
bring it to a successful termination, but happiness I expect to see only in very different 
scenes and surroundings. But I do hope for happy days yet ; I hope again to enjoy Sabbath 
privileges in New England ; to sit once more at the table of our Lord,— or that being denied 
me, and my life required in a strange land, I hope, through the blood of my Saviour, for a 
happy eternity in the presence of all the inhabitants of Heaven, where I may meet those I 
loved on earth, and with them ' Sing unceasing praise to the God of our salvation.' " 

Sunday, Sept. 28, 1862. •' Have listened to the reading of the Scriptures, to prayer and 
preaching for the first time, this afternoon, in two months. It has been very still all day in 
camp, and a kind of solemn joy seemed afloat in the air as this beautiful grove was filled with 
the music of ' Ortonville ' with the words 'Majestic sweetness sits enthroned,' &c. How 
could I help feeling intensely the sentiment,— 

' Since from His bounty I receive 

Such proofs of love Divine, 
Had I a thousand hearts to give, 
Lord, they should all be thine.' 

Who, I thought, in all that congregation, had received greater proofs of ' Love Divine ' than 
myself: Was I not, two years since, feeble in constitution, and often sick in spite of the 



12 

care of friends? And now, for sixteen months, through His mercy, I have endured fatigue^ 
care and exposure without harm, even gaining a strength of body and freedom from illness 
I had almost dispaircd of previously. When danger has been nigh and seemingly not to be 
avoided or escaped. His mercy has turned it aside, and my path has led me onward unharmed. 
Ought I not to feel increased confidence in the promises of God, since He has so often heard 
and li-stened to my prayers. Nothing ever before made me so conscious of the Alniighty-s 
omnipresent controlling power over the acts, fortunes and lives of men. It seems as 
though times of apparent greatest peril and danger gave me the greatest faith that my 
petitions for deliverance would be granted. Our lives are in the hand of God. He can 
preserve me as safely on the battle field as in a pleasant home. Pray for me, that, whether 
living or dying, I may be prepared for Heaven, and found like a faithful steward, always 
mindful of his Master's business." 

October, 1862. " In the mercy of God my blood has not yet been called for. Thousand3 
more worthy- of life, lie low upon the battle fields, while /am still safe from harm. Surely 
they who return from the war ought to be patriots in life of the liigheit excellence if our 
country is restored to its former integrity and harmony ; for the blood of Patriot-Martyrs 
that has already consecrated anew every letter and word of the ' constitution and laws ' of 
this once happy and peaceful land. Can it be that much more is to be shed ? Apparently 
we are little nearer a peaceful solution of this vexed question than ever, and battles are yet 
talked of soon to come, even more bloody than their precedents. I think now, as I 
always have, that so long as man is owned by his fellow-man upon this soil, we can never 
again be a united countr}-, and if I must remain here or run my risk in battling for the 
remainder of my three years, I had much rather do so than have another slavery coinpromise 
patched up. Just so sure as our God is a God of justice and mercy, He is not to allow a 
nation to thrive and increase with such a sin upon them. He has borne with us long and 
blessed us. He may do so again, but a reckoning has come noiv, and will cotne again, if the 
evil be not rooted ovit entirely from the land. Unless one can see through the cloud to the 
light of God's countenance, and believe that whatever becomes of us. Right will triumph, and 
Justice rule, tempered by Love. Unless one has faith in the Almighty as ruler of all the 
nations of earth, the aspect of every thing is dark at present, but Hope has not yet left me ; 
the struggle may be long, but ultimate success seems certain for us. The fervent prayers of 
Christians will not fall unheeded round the Mercy Seat. Was every thing we desire gained 
by the mere wish, without struggle upon our part, "t would be soon forgotten ; but who will 
lightly estimate the blessings of Peace and Union when this strife shall terminate ? '' 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

'iiiinitii " 




013 764 129 A • 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



013 764 129 P 



